I'd rather not think of the thorns 'round his head
It pains me to picture his back beaten raw
Just give me the baby, asleep on the straw
The cattle! The wise men from far, distant lands!
The little Lord Jesus who makes no demands
I love the old carols and things in that vein
Just stay in the cradle and don't make me change
Be Little Lord Christchild, I ask thee to stay
The babe in a manger forever, I pray
To die when you're perfect would be such a loss
It's far too disturbing: the blood and the cross
* * * * * * *Truth is...this really is the desire of a lot of folks; enamored with the romanticism and fairytale quality of The Christmas Story, but uncomfortable with the grisly necessity of Good Friday.